So im pretty sure the object of my emotional onterest is tired of playing with me....
clearly I should have checked to see if he was an NRA member before I went back to his house and woke up in Heston's haven.
Did I get blown in the bathroom? Yes. Did she throw up cranberry juice on my shorts? Yes. Did she finish the job? Yes.
Her vagina is like Vegas. high traffic and full of glitter.
She passed out in the backyard, making "face down" snow angels ... so they could have a smile.
Apparently she came home completely covered in mud, pretending to be a bird...and she still had more sex than any of us this weekend.
No idea. I woke up in the middle of the night to you drooling and gnawing on my arm. Then you rolled over, punched the air 4 times, then proceeded to talk about your hair in your sleep.
No more drinking with Em. She was on the ground so much she looked like she belongs in a lifealert commercial
I'm at the bar alone. Is this how you feel?
Things I Learned Tonight: I have no future in goat wrangling. Herding. Whatever you call the ridiculosity that just transpired.
You called it motorboating but you just snot rocketed into my tits.
I'm sitting in my car avoiding a customer. Apparently the new year hasn't affected my attitude nor work ethic
I'm sitting here with a band aid on my labia, this is a first
Right before he dumped me... he got a really ugly pair of pants. They were twill pants. A pinkish color. When I'm sad... I picture him in them. It makes me smile.
She was gone when I unblacked out, but she had nailed her panties to the wall and wrote “Colleen’s Dick”with a sharpie on the wall. No idea where she got a hammer and nail
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